


American Horror Story: Lycantrope

by ItzIzziieMonsta



Category: American Horror Story: Coven, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Author was imagining Stiles in the Buffy universe while doing this, BAMF!Stiles, But Stiles is kinda busy with coven business, But they regret it, Credits chapter, Erica Reyes is good, F/F, F/M, Family, I think he would be awesome!, If you want to help me you can, Isaac Lahey is good, Jackson's an ass like always, Lydia's just Lydia, Mis Robichaux's Academy is for boys too, Motherly Cordelia, Multi, New members of the council, PROTECT THE COVEN, Peter Hale is Good, Scott's a temporary bad friend, Slow Updates, Stiles Leaves Beacon Hills, Stiles Leaves the Pack, Stiles is Pushed Out of the Pack, Stiles is a witch!, Stiles is not from of virgin, Stiles is sweet, The Pack Being Idiots, The Pack get better, The council are really useless, The witches accept him, They come back for Stiles, They're way too late though, Vernon Boyd is good, apart from Myrtle Snow, badass stiles, even Madison Montgomery, far from it, hah!, how awesome would Stiles look in the Buffy intro?, message me if your up for it!, need someone to make a youtube trailer for me, okay I'm gonna stop now, seriously though, slight angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-13 18:41:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14118525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItzIzziieMonsta/pseuds/ItzIzziieMonsta
Summary: “I used to be the useless one. The human one. Look at me now! I-I’m good! Even you have to admit Scott. I’m damn good. Maybe not the baddest witch-bitch in the business but I’m good!”Mourning over the passing of their loved ones, (namely Erica, Aiden, Boyd and Allison) the pack decide their troubles lie on the human of their pack. Stiles. They had come used to the thought that Stiles was the type of person that would be hurt for a few seconds and they wouldn't even have to apologize, he just knew they were sorry. It's just a shame they assumed wrong as the next day, Stiles was gone from Beacon Hills and in his place turned up four familiar faces on doorsteps.





	1. Credits Chapter (kind of like a trailer video)

(^Cover Page^)

 

**Credit Scenes**  
(Just a note, Erica and Boyd need to have proper credit pictures or something better than I can produce. If you can give me something better for their credit picture (ideally, the kind of credit picture would be Teen Wolf style. Thanks!)

 


	2. Train Wreck [BITCHCRAFT PART 1]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don’t even remember what happened clearly if I’m totally honest. But it turns out I definitely should have paid more attention in History class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. I know it’s been forever and please forgive me? But I took this time to do some research and I’ve found that I can only find 1 script from American Horror Story: Coven so this will be a VERY difficult story to write but you guys want it so you’re gonna get it the best I can provide it. If you guys can find any other scripts rather than the first one, please let me know and direct me the way. If not I’m gonna try as best as I can. OKAY, ON WITH THE STORY.

I don’t even remember what happened clearly if I’m totally honest.  But it turns out I definitely should have paid more attention in History class. Sorry, Mr Wilson. I wonder what happened to that old hoot anyway, he just vanished one day. Maybe I should have brought that up during—Stiles, focus.

His whiskey eyes left the ageing paper in front of him as he tried to focus his erratic thoughts, drifting them to the window and watched as the world whizzed by without a care. The teenager sighed to himself. From inside the train, everything seemed to go by like nothing was wrong. Like Stiles’ life wasn’t just ruined forever. To be honest, it all probably turned to shit the moment Stiles pulled Scott into the preserve that fateful night.

Stiles didn’t really fully understand what happened that day. It had been two weeks since everyone had started to ignore him and leave him to his own devices. It was painful at first, all he felt was sadness as he watched the people he called pack cover up the chair he used to sit in at lunch, laugh with each other and smile as Stiles passed, not even looking up to acknowledge his existence. If it wasn’t for teachers occasionally calling upon him in class, then Stiles would have eventually been convinced that he was invisible.

But then the loneliness, the sadness passed over and all that was left in Stiles was a lot of pent-up anger. Like a coil that seemed to tighten progressively with every waking moment and finally, the spring snapped. Still, Stiles never understood how his mental and emotional anger could have caused his curtains and bed and everything flammable to go up in flames like a bonfire in the fourth of July.

Finally, his father told him the secrets of the Stilinski family. The Witches. Stiles couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. The pack had kicked him out for being the species which was practically the definition of weakness and, as it turns out, Stiles was never human at all. Not really. It was all just waiting to be awoken and here it was. His anger had turned into unintentional arson which he escaped arrest for, thanks to the council.

Stiles was sure at some point they had done the Salem Witch trials in school, but like always, Stiles didn’t pay any attention to it at all. He should have and is regretting the fact that he didn’t and it’s come to bite him back in the ass but at least he had this book. The teenager shook his head with his thoughts and turned his eyes and attention back to the book and the trial example he had open.

Mercy Osborne, as if her name isn’t the definition of irony as the judges never had mercy for her during her trial. She was condemned to death and told she had a wretched soul. She was hung screaming out and struggling, fighting for her life but no one cared. It was superstition back in those times, people were terrified. But that was no excuse.

The saddest fact was that Mercy and the others accused weren’t at all witches. The real ones were clever, cunning and careful not to get caught. They fled fairly quickly, taking Stiles’ ancestor, Silas (one of the first male witches), with them. Namely, Martha Hobbs, Dorothy, Rebecca and Silas all ran as quick as they could down to the south.  They found a home in New Orleans and that’s where Stiles is heading. To a school for special people, witches (and wizards if you like but Stiles never really cared about the gender aspect of things. He could do magic, that was what’s important.) which he hoped he would be welcomed into.

At first, Stiles was devastated. His father was sending him away? Was Stiles really that much of trouble to his family? Then the anger came again and he had to ball up his fists tightly not to set anything alight as his father attempted to explain to him that Stiles was being sent away for his own good and that he would come home when he was safe.

It took the teenage boy a good two-hour travel for Stiles to calm down and think it through. Yes, Stiles understood it was for his own good. Yes, Stiles was now willing to go. Yes, Stiles understood everything. No, that did not stop Stiles from being angry at this being hidden from him. But, of course, he knew Stiles was being quite hypocritical there. He had hidden so much from his father but never once has he attempted to ship his father off.

“Hi,” Stiles looked up as the feminine voice filled his ears, his eyes locking with beautiful glinting hazel ones. She smiled a foot wide, perfectly aligned white teeth glinting in the passing light. “Can I?” She indicated to the open seat opposite his own.

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” She smiled again and slipped gracefully into the same seat she indicated to. Stiles took this time he could to genuinely look at her closely. She had a pale ivory complexion that complimented her with round hazel, expressive eyes and plump, gloss painted lips. Her natural dark brown hair was long and wavy which fell down her shoulders. She was very short, around five-two, with a petite hourglass frame. She wore a black dress with boots, black tights a thin looking necklace Stiles was too far away to see the charm and a black jacket made of a material that Stiles couldn’t label. “They made you wear that too?” She turned her attention to him from the window and raised an eyebrow in question. Stiles indicated to the table on the other side of the train with a diagonal view. Two albino men wearing suits sat, watching the two teens.

“You’re heading to the school?” She asked. Stiles nodded. “I’m not sure about the uniform either.” A small smirk grew on both of their faces as they looked down to themselves. She wasn’t the only one with provided black outfits. Stiles was a classic black t-shirt, black denim jacket, black ripped skinny jeans and black army boots with his hair in a ruffled style. “My names Robin. Robin March.” She reached out a skinny, pale hand open to shake. Stiles smiled and reached over, held the hand gingerly and shook it gently.

“I’m Stiles Stilinski.” Robin smiled. Stiles found himself chucking internally at her name. Seems that there really is someone for him to be Batman too after all. And it wasn’t Erica. “So, Robin March, what caused you to end up here? What brought the council’s attention to you?”

“Biokinesis.” Robin shrugged. “It wasn’t’ my fault. Maybe if he wasn’t such an ass then his conscience wouldn’t have found it necessary to punch him in the face.” Stiles let out a boisterous laugh, the image of someone’s clueless face as they punched themselves bloody was priceless. “What about you? What are you in for?”

“Anger into arson by mind.” Stiles sighed, sitting back, crossing his arms. Robin leaned forward with surprise written all over her face. “Pyrokinesis.” He shrugged. “I burn hot.” Robin looked him over intently and winked.

“Oh, I know. I saw that the moment I sat down.” Stiles chuckled again, sharing a bright smile with his new friend. His new Robin.

Maybe this school wouldn’t be as bad after all.


	3. Madison. Nan. Zoe. Queenie. Robin. Stiles. [BITCHCRAFT PART 2]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Robin looked at each other, faces covered in a mix of fear and apprehension and they looked back up to the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I realise that in this chapter Madison is very out of character at the moment. That is not because I can’t write her personality because I can write Madison as even more of a bitch than she actually is in the show. But I’m giving her a slight OC persona ONLY FOR THIS MOMENT OF THE STORY because I don’t want Madison to hold a grudge against Robin yet and I DON’T WANT MADISON TO GO FOR STILES IN REVENGE. You know? So, bear with me for that character break but I kind of need it to be done. And yes, I am trying to spread this episode out as far as I can through chapters. Sue me.

Stiles and Robin looked at each other, faces covered in a mix of fear and apprehension and they looked back up to the house. A grand Greek revival mansion located in the heart of the New Orleans Garden district stood before them both, emitting an aura of grand regal being, humbling the two teenagers.

“Stiles,” Robin whispered, causing him to look at her. She didn’t take her eyes off the house but Stiles could see the eminence of tears welling up. “Are we gonna survive this?” He didn’t answer, just reached over and took her hand in his. “I’m not scared. I refuse to be.” He nodded in agreement which Robin seemed to see. And so, the two reached down to their side and picked up the suitcases sat on either side of the two holding onto the handle and each other’s hand like a lifeline. Stiles looked over at the plaque on his side of the gate.

_‘Miss Robichaux’s Academy for Exceptional Young Children’_

Stiles looked under the sign and presses the buzzer button with the hand that holds his suitcase. Nothing. Then a buzz and click. The teens took a small step back as the wrought iron gate unlocks. Hefting the suitcases in hands, they pushed through the gate which seemed to rise up before them, striking unashamed admitted fear into the cores of both the Batman and Robin as they approached the front door. They pushed it open and entered what would become one of the biggest adventures in their lives together.

Robin’s eyes were frighteningly wide as she looked around the entry and Stiles found himself holding onto her hand a little tighter. It was certainly elegant. It had a bright white and cream theme that reminded Stiles of a much homier hospital. The floors were black and white parquet with a circular staircase to the upper level staring them in the face. There was no one there to greet them and Stiles would be damned if that didn’t creep him out again. There was just silence. Until –

“ _Get the hell off me!_ ” Echoed the female screech around the halls. It took a moment before the two jumped into action. Dropping their suitcases and each other’s hand in favour of streamlining their arms to charge faster to where the yell came from. If they were in a cartoon, Stiles was sure smoke would be coming off their shoes as the two skidded to a stop in one of the rooms.  The scene was frightening. A struggling girl pinned under another looming over her wearing a cloak and two other figures wearing a cloak beside them. The girl on top of the blonde raised a butcher knife high, chanting something that neither teenager’s particularly cared for. Lowering their heads, Stiles hard eyes focused on the candles surrounding them and Robin’s glare solidified on the butcher knife holding girl.

Instantaneously, the candles flared super-ignited the flame turning from a haunting gold to a ferocious roar of gold, yellow, orange and a terrifying blood red. The knife-wielding girl arched her back and let out a blood-curdling scream accompanied by a burning sizzle. Her mask slipped off as she threw her head back, showing the famous face of Madison Montgomery.

“Stop!” The actress screamed in terror and pain. The two other figures that were helping her rushed back steps away from her as the former struggling blonde dashed over to where Stiles and Robin stood. Stiles let his focus go and the candles turned into another but a puddle of wax. He placed his hand in Robin’s and squeezed once quickly, a signal to tell her to stop. So she did. She broke focus and squeezed back Stiles’ hand. The actress stopped screaming and sizzling sound ended, leaving Madison with bright red cheeks and panting to get her breath back. He leaned into her ear.

“What was that?” He whisper-asked, astonished. Robin smiled back at him.

“Blood boiling. At that temperature, it wouldn’t have done any more than hurt. I didn’t have her at the right temperature or time for her blood to actually evaporate.” She smirked. The other two girls pulled off their masks, revealing a larger African American girl and a happy-grinning down syndrome woman. The African American girl turned to Robin and Stiles.

“Holy shit!” She exclaimed with a smile. “Double team, nice!” Madison made a sound of protest as she tried to get to her feet and regain her balance, a slight gleam of fear in her eyes. “But that, that was awesome.” Robin turned to the actress with an apologetic face as the actress looked at her and rolled her eyes.

“Jesus…” She panted, still trying to regain her breath. “Relax, Sabrina. We were just messing with her.” Robin’s face got worse and more apologetic as she looked at the blonde actress who looked straight back at her. Robin wanted to sing like a bird when she saw that Madison didn’t seem to hold any maliciousness.

“I’m so sorry.” Robin apologised with a deeply heavy heart as she looked at the actress. “I panicked. I saw and I acted. I’m not gonna say I didn’t mean to hurt you ‘cause evidently I did but I’m so sorry.” Madison sent a sarcastic smile back to Robin though there was some element of sincerity behind it. Madison seemed to accept but shrug off her apology. “You’re Madison Montgomery, aren’t you?” Madison’s smile turned back to cocky and arrogant of a smirk.

“Yes. Madison Montgomery. Movie star.” She flicked a long lock of her golden blonde hair behind her shoulder. The African American girl scoffed and looked to Madison with a roll of her eyes.

“Movie star?” Her tone was cynical. “Shit. When’s the last time you made a movie, girl?” Madison’s eyes turned to a glare slightly as she looked at the African American girl who seemed to have talked to her like they were best friends.

“When’s the last time you said no to a pork chop?” Her response was totally rude and uncalled for yet no one in the room apart from the one and only offended African American girl called her out on her attitude.

“Bitch,” Her glare was nasty and could have killed Madison on the spot. “only reason you’re still famous is because you keep flashing that crotch on TMZ.” The down syndrome woman dropped her mask and rolled her eyes seemingly done with the drama. Turning to the newcomers, she flashed a sweet smile.

“We’re not really going to kill you.” She assured the three. “I’m Nan. Hi.” Robin and Stiles turned to the blonde girl in which they rescued(?). Her face was startled as she tried to regain her bearings.

“Zoe.” She introduced herself.

“Queenie.”

“Robin.”

“Stiles.” Nan turned to Stiles.

“You’re a boy.” Stiles blew out a large lung full of oxygen, exasperated, and nodded in agreement with the statement. He absentmindedly reached for Robin's hand again, something Madison didn’t miss.

“Last time I checked. I’m gonna guess there are no other boys here, huh?” Nan shook her head, solemnly. “Great.” Robin looked at him with a smirk and creased her eyebrows for a millisecond before bumping her shoulder with his.

“Don’t look too down. You got us.” And Stiles knew at that moment that this was going to be nothing like Beacon Hills.


	4. Hell out of Dodge, indeed.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles’ thoughts were along the same line as the petite blonde’s. This was meant to be a school but there was only six of them? That isn’t much of a school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, reading over the other two chapters’ I changed the name of the school. Not completely, I just changed ‘Children’ to ‘Adults’. Plus, I’m really mad right now. Polyvore which I use for my characters has been abruptly take over by an overpriced retailers that no one is interested in from the Polyvore community. Pleas when you have the time either go and sign the online petition or share it. Thanks.

Zoe looked around at the occupants of the room. Queenie stood casually next to the table, Nan by the white wall of the room, Madison standing by the sharp end of the table seemingly bored by everything as she checked her nails, Stiles stood by the door holding the hand tightly of the final occupant Robin who was also looming by the door. Stiles’ thoughts were along the same line as the petite blonde’s. This was meant to be a school but there was only six of them? That isn’t much of a school.

“So is this everyone?” Zoe asked eventually, slightly incredulous at the aspect of this many being in a school never mind such a grand mansion this big. Robin found herself inclined to agree unless there were more students else were. Madison, Queenie and Nan seemed not to show any signs of claiming there were other people in the school but themselves.

“At the moment.” The girls and guy turned to the doorway where a new woman stood. “Cordelia Foxx. Headmistress.” She introduced. Cordelia was very pretty outwardly being a blonde woman in her mid-thirties with a light complexion. Her brown eyes glinted in the light that reflected of the white surfaces. Her mainly white based outfit gave the impression she was the one who chose the white colour scheme of the house. Cordelia turned to the three more experienced witches. “All right, girls. There’s a van full of groceries in the driveway that needs unloading. I’ll show Zoe, Stiles and Robin to her room, then we meet for Mid-Day Gathering.” Madison rolled her eyes as Robin scrunched her eyebrows. Mid-Day Gathering? Was that really necessary? “Let’s go.” They all shuffle past Cordelia, the blonde woman herself guiding Zoe, Stiles and Robin in a different direction.

“Miss Robichaux’s Academy For Exceptional Young Adults was established as a premier finishing school in 1790.” Cordelia lead the three younger witches through the house and up the stairs. A creepy lurch-like butler followed them, somehow balancing all their bags. Stiles sneaked a quick glance behind them while Cordelia was talking and held Robin’s hand just that little bit tighter.

He would be lying if he said that the butler, Spalding, didn’t creep him out a little more than he should have done. Spalding had a weathered face framed by long, scraggly hair and a beard. His fingernails were yellowed and talon-like and if Stiles didn’t know any better, he would have assumed Spalding was a werewolf mid-shift. Spalding, and this was the part that creeped Stiles out the most, didn’t say a word. Something was just wrong with that guy and Stiles didn’t like it, not one bit.

“During the Civil War, it was converted into a military hospital. Afterwards, it came under new management. Our management.”  Zoe sticks by Robin’s other side as they looked about the place, taking it all in. A framed photo here, on oil painting there. “In 1868, Marianne Wharton, a prominent East Coast society matron, early suffragette, author of several popular children’s books and, as it happened, the reigning Supreme of that time purchased this facility, retaining the name as a cover, establishing a safe haven where young witches could gather to learn.”

Cordelia, after dropping Zoe off in other room leads the two other witches to their rooms, sat next to each other with a shared bathroom. Stiles settled in the door in the left and Robin settled in the other room. They were both identical; immaculate, delicate, sunny, big closets, tiled bathroom and kind of great with a Victorian-era feel to it. Stiles, in his own room, sighed and dropped down on his bed that sunk underneath his weight.

Definitely not Beacon Hills.                                                                       

 -

The walls were covered with portraits of witches from different ages. The fireplace flickered, its warmth expelling into the room. Upon different parts of furniture, all the witches sat in a semi-circle formation. Madison, Queenie and Nan had gotten rid of their satanic looking cloaks while Zoe, Stiles and Robin had changed their outfits into something more comfortable.

Stiles replaced his black ensemble with a white t-shirt, keeping his black ripped jeans, slipping on black converses and a red and black plaid unbuttoned shirt over the top.  
 Robin had gone for a blue sundress only with a black belt and black ankle boots along with a black and white tartan scarf wrapped loosely around her neck that would make Isaac Lahey proud.

“In its heyday, the Academy was home to as many as sixty young adults,” Cordelia explains in a tone that sounds like it was supposed to surprise and impress the witches but they all, minus the happy-go-lucky Nan, looked totally bored. “but over the years, those numbers dwindled.” Zoe’s wide eyes seemed to get wider. So much so, it kinda freaked Stiles out.

“Why?”

“We’re a dying breed, Zoe.” Cordelia explained. “Many of the families who knew they carried the bloodline made a choice not to reproduce. They feared having children.” Zoe shifted in her seat, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“Or maybe she feared the children they would have,”  Zoe mumbled as if to herself thinking no one else could hear. But evidently, they could. Cordelia looked at Zoe knowingly and sympathetic while Robin and Stiles both had the same track of mind. Their gaze turned to Zoe, slightly offended at the statement.

“Maybe.”  Cordelia agreed, much to both the surprise and slight anger of the two other new witches.

“So, what’s a supreme?”

“An average witch is born with a few natural gifts.” Unsurprisingly, the witches looked between them slightly smug. Well, all but Zoe. It was quite obvious though, the witches who did look knew that they were great. “Other skills, spells, they can learn. But in each generation, there is one witch who embodies countless gifts. Some say all of them. They are the Supreme.” Zoe looked thoughtful.

“So, they’re like the Witch Pope?” Robin thinned her eyes over at the pale looking blonde and raised an eyebrow.

“Really?” Zoe looked to her. “We find out we’re witches with the power possibly to kill someone and an element which many of people in the world would call us Satan worshipers or something along those lines…and you’re asking if the leader of said witchy-ness is like the _pope_? Can you see how ridiculous that sounds? Please tell me you know how ridiculous that sounds?” Zoe looked down with a slight shrug and a sheepish look. Now she thought it through, it did seem quite ridiculous. Robin turned to Cordelia. “Am I correct to assume you’re the Supreme then?” Cordelia smiled gently.

“No. I’m like you.  Just a witch. And a teacher. I’m here to help you identify your first and teach you how to control them.” Queenie rolled her eyes at the long spew of lies she was sure her Head just spilled.

“How to suppress them, she means.” Stiles took the opportunity to take those words into consideration. He couldn’t help but think that Queenie may be exactly right. Stiles doesn’t know anything about Cordelia Foxx. He doesn’t know her intentions, he doesn’t know her methods, he doesn’t know her.

At this point, Stiles was seriously considering taking Robin and getting the hell out of dodge. Fleeing like the Salem witches.

Getting the hell out of dodge, indeed.


End file.
